


Crabcatch

by pearl4453 (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Hermaphroditic Trolls, Underage - Freeform, dubcon, male bottom, meenkat, tentabulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pearl4453
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meenah wants Karkat to impress her, and he tries his best. </p><p>Warning: Implied dubcon, underage! Slight allusions to ephebephilia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crabcatch

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE A LAB REPORT AND TWO ESSAYS TO DO WHY THIS

After the seventh time you solve a puzzle for the sole purpose of getting to talk to him, shoutkat begins to catch on. 

He looks mortified when you test out if he gets it- his face burns a hot, strange red that is eons more attractive on him than on Kankri- but also intrigued. Curious. Flattered! If you play your cards right, you can make him fall for you- hook, line, and sinker. 

For the next few days that you spend cracking into his room, Karcrab never ceases to sputter when you flirt with him. You note that every succeeding attempt makes the almost smile on his lips get dangerously close to a smirk. Oh, boy’s in denial, you can’t blame him. You remember being seven. Everyone was too much of a pussy to actually come out and say their feelings, and you? You didn’t even really liked anyone in your group save two or three people and you’d always get bored of them if you tried for anything besides friendship.

One day, when shoutnubs gives it up and actually has the gal to look pleased at your compliment, you wonder if you’re being weird. You’re 9 sweeps old, almost 10, biologically and mentally. This kid- the kid looking up at you with a tiny smile and for once, with unfurled eyebrows, and oh god his lashes are preciously long- is about a round 7 sweeps. That’s vaguely disconcerting, and in the most sick sense, it makes him more enticing. He’s smaller, less experienced, and in his own way, naïve. You imagine holding him against you. You imagine peeling off his drab shirt. You imagine things worse than that. 

A while ago, the human in the red godtier get-up had grinned when he saw you talking to Karkat atop the Derse balcony. He muttered ‘Seatroll’s pedo-ing it up in here for Vantas, who’da thunk it…’ You were less offended and more inquisitive as to what that meant. Karkat didn’t know what it meant either, so you gave it up.

You conclude that you don’t care how old you are and you don’t really give a carp over what Strider’s quote is supposed to mean, Sharkkat’s just so flipper-in’ cute and you want him. So when he starts to grin a little wider when he realizes for the billionth time you aren’t going to rip the praise out from under his feet, you shift forward, grab his cheeks (still soft like a kid’s, but the tiniest beginnings of facial hair can be felt) bend down, and kiss him. 

He makes a sound akin to a kitten having its tail stepped on. That is darling as fuck, you think, as he stumbles backwards into a bookshelf with flailing arms. You don’t stop and wait patiently for him to reciprocate, lips awkwardly still pressed against his. His noises of alarm wither into silence. 

You peek open and eye to see him staring at you, confused and still panicked. His hands are up around him in a position of surrender, like he’s too scared to touch you, what the fuck. You make an unimpressed face to goad him on, raising an eyebrow, and slowly, tentatively, he moves against you. 

You can tell immediately that he’s new to this. You’re 9 and a half sweeps old and of course you’ve had your fair share of makeouts, accidentally or not, flings during the aftermath of the game. You’re not the master of lip mashing, you’ll admit. But Carpkat has a lot of catching up to do. 

You sigh through your lips and decide that you’re going to be the one to teach him. You make sharp little noises of dissent when he tries something that sucks, like moving against your rhythm, or being too enthusiastic with his teeth. He starts to shape up, and when he coyly sucks your tongue when you’re both into it you gasp lowly. Quick learner. 

Your hands fidget with the bottom of his shirt and suddenly he’s tense again. You pull away, nipping down his jaw to see if that changes anything. Slowly, he raises his arms for you to be able to take off his sweater, like a little kid. Disturbingly like a little kid. It’s sort of hot, you think. This is great. 

He looks so young, and you expected that, but you aren’t any less astonished. He’s barely begun to fill out, a few scars here and there and then his arms are fairly toned for a 7 sweep old- you’re guessing it’s the sickles. Other than that, he looks like a wiggler that’s barely escaped its cocoon. Maybe it’s just you, though, it’s been so long since you’ve seen a kid. 

Grinning wildly, you bring his hands to your waist. He grumbles and looks abashedly freaked out as he brings your shirt up, up and over your head, taking your goggles with them. You’re vaguely surprised he complied with your wishes. 

You remove your own bra to spare him the embarrassment of fiddling with the clasp, but he ends up embarrassed anyway. He’s alive and has pupils that are very clearly either staring at your chest for perhaps one moment or staring at the wall behind you, up at the ceiling, anywhere else, really. What a baby. What an adorable baby. You feel bad that he can’t cover it up with white eyes, like yours, but on the other hand, he’s alive, so you don’t feel that bad. 

You tsk to yourself and pop your chest out, seeing how far you can disconcert him. “Come on threshie, don’t be a wimp!” 

He stares at you, grimaces, and takes a step closer. Progress. 

A long pause, then he rests his hands on your waist again before sliding down to ease you out of your sweatpants. His eyes nervously flit to your face every two seconds, checking to see if he’s doing the right thing. It’s endearing, that’s what it is.  
He lets them drop to the floor and stares at your plain fuchsia panties. He’s probably never seen panties in person, you realize, and you’re sort of getting impatient now so you yank them down and step out of your sweats and the undergarment at the same time. Katfish’s face turns candy red in record time, if it wasn’t red before, and he looks up again, as if the cracks on the ceiling are more interesting than your junk. As if!

You grab his chin and snap in down so you look eye to eye, and you know he’d be lying is he said he wasn’t aroused as whole hell. You can practically smell the pheromones washing off him and into the air- in fact, it’s almost astounding how turned on he is already. You haven’t even touched him yet, and you can sense by the crease in his crotch that his bulge is already out. 7 sweeps olds are like that, you remember. 

This thought doesn’t give you even a moment of pause as you step backward and sit into the computer chair, swiveled so it faces out. You crook two fingers into the air and beckon him forward, and he scowls- and obeys. Wonderful.

He positions himself on your lap, and you don’t make a move to remove his pants, ‘cause honestly it’s so much better to let him stay a little on edge for a while. Teasing him will be the most fun part of this. You place both hands on his butt and pull forward, only to smother his chest and collarbone is bitey, sharkteeth kisses and licks, and though he pretends to grumble, you feel him twitch and pant under you. One of your hands snakes between you two and softly glance the junction of his legs, causing him to let out a tiny whine. The sound goes straight to your head, killing all logic- you know what you want, and Crabby will give it to you. He has something eager and earnest in him, it makes you soft and mushy and at the same time wicked as hell. You could make him do anything for you.

Grinning against him, you suck a kiss on his collarbone one last time and gently push him off and down. He resists for the slightest of a moment before lowering himself onto his knees between your legs, and you feel the tenseness. He’s new to all of this. Well, SOM---EON---E’s gotta schoolfeed him, yo, and hell if that someone isn’t you.

He nervously looks up at you, and his hands are ever so gently placed on each thigh. God, he’s so scared of screwing up you can practically hear his heart skittering. You reckon you can ease up for half a mo’ and thusly you reach a hand down, and stroke his jaw. He still looks apprehensive, but at the sign of your encouraging smile, he straightens his shoulders and you know your threshie friend is going business.

He shyly places kisses on the inside of your thigh, leading up, quietly drawing it out. Shit, where did he get this? Some romantic novel or something, you swear. Despite the cheesiness, though, you still find it adorable. So naïve!

 

He stops right before he gets to the goods. You wait, pointedly not looking at him, so he doesn’t clam (ha!) up, and sure enough, there’s a tentative lick. It’s not really effective in doing anything, but you shift to give him the pleasure of a reaction. 

He does it again, a tiny swipe of tongue barely getting between the lips, and again, and again, and after you pull a bit on his tumble-y hair he begins to get a little more confident, looking up at you to gauge your reactions and making wider strokes. 

It doesn’t actually start to feel good until you reach down two fingers and pump against yourself, but it only gets better when he makes a noise in disagreement and takes up the job for you, pushing aside your hand in lieu of his. 

You whine when he gently thrusts the fingers in you while he works against your clit, and when he lets out a moan in response you shriek softly. That felt really, really good.

Spurred by your noises, he lets it all go, sucking against your straining nub, stroking the inside of your walls, blurting out groans against you. A searching hand of your own grabs your nipple and tweaks it. You’re almost there and you’re shifting your hips up to grind against his face, and he lets you, and when he looks up at you with wide eyes and clear lust on his face while the rest is obstructed by him eating you out, you come like a firecracker. 

You jerk once, twice, before breathing out and letting go of his head. He sits back against his calves and wipes his mouth against his hand, and then after glances up at you to see your judgment, like he’s ready to get judged by you. It’s hilarious seeing him like this, it’s such a contrast to the angry, tetchy boy you regularly see. You think he’s cute in every form, reely.

“Not too shabby, nubs,” you proclaim, smiling. “Hell, I’d say it was outraygeously good for a beginner.”

He frowns at the implied pun, but they way he hold his lips shows that he’s holding back a smile at your praise. He’s proud of himself. You’re proud of him too, and so you call him forth, leaning back on your chair. 

He settles back in your lap and you manage to slip off his pants, and with a gasp from him you settle into stroking his bulge long and languid like. 

It is slick and hot, much like yours- that you are keeping sheathed- and you grin up slyly at him as he huffs in tandems with your movements. You twist near the end, and this seems to be sweet on his receptors, seeing as he arches closer to you when you deign to do so. 

 

You snicker lowly and crook a few fingers to pet his own nook, and with that he is already coming with a heavy moan. His genetic material spills between you, and you coo as you lower him back down so he is slumped on your shoulder like a tired rag doll. 

“How was that, Krab-babe?”

He groans in response. He is obviously worn out already. Sadly for him, you are far from done! You whisper something sweet in his ear and his face heats up a little more- you were right, he is a romantic soul or whatever the fuck- and kiss the tips of his ears. He huffs a bit. 

After a bit more of this, you decide coddling time is over. It isn’t like you’re gonna cull him, Beforan style, so you decide to go for what you want and as it goes, what you want is your bulge up his nook. You aren’t hasty in your movements, though. You realize that he’s younger, smaller, and this’ll probably hurt a bit, so you creep two fingers back up into him and let them rest there. 

He stills. You wait. 

“I don’t….uh...” he starts, and he sounds so profoundly tired. Twang goes your heart with pity. He’s too tired for this, and as much as your bulge would love to argue with you, you don’t want to do this if he doesn’t want to. You can wait (you think). 

So you nod and quip “No prob, Karkat, ain’t no rush,” and pull out your two digits, slowly, imagining how he would feel on your junk and shit you need to stop thinking about that because it only makes your brain a little more addled. He doesn’t respond to you, rather biting his nails in worry and the bags under his eyes are so, so dark. He’s sleeping right now, technically, for him to be in this dream bubble yet he looks like he hasn’t heard of the word rest in years. 

You carry him to his recuparoon and slowly lower him in, and after a moment of contemplation, clamber in too. You’re tired and you’re sure he won’t mind if you jerk off next to him (does his coon have an auto-cleanse feature? You sure as fuck hope so). 

He looks well out of it by the time you settle, and you’ve only barely gotten a hand around your length before he mumbles something. 

“Eh? Sorry, nubs, didn’t quite catch that.”

He shifts higher, so his mouth isn’t muffled by slime. “I said, you deaf fish, if you’re still…okay with it, you can…uh, we can…”

He looks confused again and still tired, but as if he’s forcing himself to stay up. You stare.  
He notices and then screws his face up, hiding it behind two clasped hands. 

“Just- just stick it in, alright? Get it over with, god, I can’t believe I have to say this-”

You smile wide again and slap a hand over his two hands, effectively shutting him up. “Calm your shit, Vantas, no need for a goddamn sermon.” Your mouth twists a little, and you let go of his face. “’Sides, you’re tired, bro. Don’t have to do this.”

His hands drop into the slime and he attempts a glare at you. No effect. 

“Meenah, I’m okay, I was just a little fucking freaked out before, and you can’t blame me. It’s not like I’ve had… experience with this and I’m not even that tired so how about-” he pauses as he speaks through a yawn and you give a meaningful look. He scowls and looks away for a moment. 

“Look,” he says, borderline growling. “This is not me trying to make your bulge feel better, even if I do want to- this is me asking for something up my nook and you have a working bulge so how about everyone leaves this deal happy?”

You make a show of contemplating and Karkat rumbles unhappily. Then: “Sure thing, babe.”

You drag him close and on you again, just as it was on the chair and he’s a bit stiff. You figure he’ll get over it and you go right to sliding yourself in because god damn it he had his chance and now you aren’t going to ‘go slow’ for him. 

He freezes as you fit in and it takes a little wriggling, but you barely notice- he feels absolutely tight and searing hot on your bulge. You wonder if you can get burned because candybloods are hotter than even the lowest low blood, but all it does is make you a bit sweaty and a lot more prone to jerking your hips. 

He’s wet, too, and the slime help as well and when he finally adjusts- his face is still looking slightly pained, but he takes deep breaths and moves along- you waste no time in getting to business. 

The slime provides a certain lightness to weight, and so you grab his waist and begin to slide him up and down on your bulge, not moving yourself. He gulps a little and is silent. You notice he’s still breathing quite slowly, but you can do little but rub tiny circles in his back. 

As with all things, you run into the end of your patience, and thankfully it looks like Karkat is at least in minimal discomfort before you begin to forcefully move him faster, thrusting your bulge up into him when he slams down to meet you. His face is gold- shocked, with wide eyes and a small mouth in the shape of an ‘o’, and then suddenly he is making sounds that come out very sweetly to the ear. 

“Oh- holy shit, oh god, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck, hnngh” all bubbles from his mouth and it looks like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, with scrunched up eyes and crinkled eyebrows. He tries harder to meet you and moves a little faster than you were aiming for, but you aren’t complaining. 

Your two fingers, now well-visited customers of the hotel called Karkat’s Nook go back for a quick trip and tease his clit to no end, and he plain out screams, body shuddering. 

“Oh god, Meenah, please, more, more,” he begs and nothing makes you happier to hear. 

You rubs against his nub- ha, Nubs, nub- with a certain slyness and he only makes high, warbling noises in return as you fuck him. He’s actually drooling a bit, he’s forgotten to close his mouth. You fix this by pulling him in for a kiss and he makes strangled sounds against you, rapidly trying to bring himself to completion. 

Finally, his nook spasms once, twice, and it’s a lot more hot and wet then it just was. On the third and final judder, you give a relieved hiss and jerk into him, letting your own material rush in his nook. He makes a tiny noise- “Oh,”- and shifts, but doesn’t say anything besides. 

You lie there for a few moments before figuring you’re both done and you’ve resheathed, so why is still lying against you? You look up and guess what, your baby fucker is sleeping. Already. You sigh and gradually move him next to you, instead, where he promptly drops under the slime to be fully submerged. Now that you’re finished, you feel worn out as well, and sleeping in a coon sounds nice. You slip off your goggles, unbraid your hair, and then dunk under too. 

You’d like to do that again.

**Author's Note:**

> and then they fricked over and over and over and karkat is such a bottom boy


End file.
